After The Kiss
by KittyKatasaurus
Summary: Yes, I know it's a focus, but it was such an adorable kiss! Mature content, but hopefully not too explicit! R&R if you want, but don't be too mean TT TT


Ariadne could still taste his lips on hers. It had been a gentle brush – nothing more than an attempt to distract the projections – but something in his eyes as he'd pulled away meant that Ariadne hadn't been able to think about anything else since they'd finished the inception. It had almost been a year, and they – not only Ariadne and Arthur, but the whole team – were still working together. No one had predicted it, but Ariadne guessed that going through the inception had been such an insane, terrifying experience that they each felt an indelible link to the others. They'd become an unofficial team, and none of them had worked alone yet. Eames kept joking around, pretending that he'd be gone as soon as he could, but Ariadne – and the others – knew that it was all just talk.

The five of them had set up shop, surprisingly, in London. Their type of business seemed to be booming there, and they were rarely without a job. After the inception, the run of the mill work they were getting now seemed almost dull, if Ariadne was honest with herself – not that she'd do another inception if she could avoid it.

With the money from the various, lucrative jobs, they'd recently bought a house big enough for them all to live in – herself, Arthur, Dom, Phillipa, James, Yusuf and Eames. That way, they were always together for job planning and preparing, having bought the house with the largest basement they could find. It was their workshop now.

Ariadne was annoyed, though. It had been almost a whole year, and still nothing had happened with _him_. She saw him every day – she even slept down the hall from him. Every time she saw him, her lips tingled with the memory of his, but Ariadne wasn't stupid. She prided herself on being down to earth and understanding things for what they were. She knew, now, that if that kiss had meant to Arthur what it had meant to her, she would not be lying here alone in her bed, pining over him a year later. Something would've happened if he'd wanted it to like she had.

Ariadne rolled over and sat up – and almost screamed. She'd thought she was alone, but clearly she'd been deeper in her own thoughts than she'd believed. Eames was sitting at the end of her bed.

She slapped a hand across her mouth and then frowned at him angrily. She breathed slowly for a second.

"You scared me, Eames." She huffed. Eames laughed, and shuffled a little closer to her as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, slipping her feet into her slippers.

"You're still thinking about him?" Eames stated, more than asked, incredulously. Ariadne had long ago given up trying to lie to the conman, and ever since she'd spilt her soul to him, they'd been getting closer and closer, so she just nodded miserably.

"It's stupid, I know. You don't need to tell me that." She groaned, rubbing her forehead with a cold wrist. She saw Eames shrug out of the corner of her eye.

"I wasn't going to, but yes, it is. That daft prick." Eames said fondly. Ariadne knew Eames and Arthur were close, despite Arthur's seemingly constant irritation with the forger, and it made her reluctant to really talk about how she felt with him a lot.

"It's not his fault." Ariadne shrugged. "I just… I don't know."

Eames stood up and Ariadne did too. The man wrapped his huge form around her tiny one and Ariadne tried not to cry. Her supressed sobs shook her body a little, but she bit her lip and pulled away.

"I'm fine, honestly. Come on, Dom won't be happy if you're late for dinner again." She grinned quickly and Eames laughed.

"Okay. It smells good, anyway."

He draped an arm over her shoulder and they left Ariadne's bedroom together, traipsing through the corridors and staircases they were still getting used to, until they arrived at the dining room.

The rest of the house, except Dom, was sitting around the table.

Dom, who was putting the food on the table and joking with James, looked up as they entered. His eyes flickered over Eames's arm and flashed suspiciously. Ariadne tried not to laugh. She loved Dom so much – he was like both her parents rolled into one and a friend at the same time. Sometimes his need to look after her was so over the top that Ariadne would just laugh in his face, and he usually relaxed after that. She'd never been angry at him about it – she found it endearing, and she understood it. She was closer to his children's ages than she was to his age.

"Sit down, you two. We're having pizza."

Ariadne and Eames both noticed, at the same time, that one of the two chairs that were left free when Dom sat down was beside Arthur. Trying not to make it obvious, Ariadne pushed past Eames, aiming for the seat next to Yusuf, but Eames – the bastard – overtook her at the last moment. Peering around discretely, Ariadne tried to see if anyone else had noticed. She thanked her lucky stars that everyone seemed to be involved in a conversation. Ariadne quietly took the seat by Arthur and scowled at Eames, who sat across from her. She aimed a kick under the table, but to her embarrassment it was Yusuf who yelled.

"Ariadne, Arthur, which one of you was it?" he growled. Ariadne raised a meek hand, ignoring Eames's gleeful expression.

"Sorry, Yusuf, my leg twitched." Ariadne mumbled.

"What happened, Ari?" James asked, curiously. Dom looked expectantly at Ariadne.

"My leg twitched." Ariadne repeated to the little boy, and then she shoved a massive mouthful of pizza into her mouth so that she couldn't answer anyone else. Her eyes flicked to the side and she found herself staring into Arthur's bemused eyes. He was almost laughing, and Ariadne guessed she must look pretty comical – bright red face, hamster-cheeks full of pizza, scowling eyes. She swallowed the pizza and relaxed into a smile, but he gave her the briefest of smiles in return before going back to talking to Dom. Ariadne's heart dropped and she put the pizza back down on her plate, unable to take another bite. She ignored Eames's sympathetic expression and simply stared at her plate for a few moments.

"Ariadne? Are you there?"

Ariadne looked up. The whole table was staring at her and she bumbled for a moment.

"What?"

"Dom asked you what you thought of the job offer." Arthur supplied. Ariadne didn't look at him, choosing instead to lock her eyes on Dom.

"Sorry, Dom, I wasn't listening. What's the job?" she said, stiffly. Dom's eyes narrowed, no doubt detecting the change in tone, but he didn't address it.

"It's… Oh, Ariadne, where have you been? We've been talking about it for ten minutes at least. Okay, don't veto anything yet, just listen. It's…"

Ariadne's blood froze. If Dom couldn't get it out, it must be bad. Come to think of it, the rest of the table – with the exception of Phillipa and James – were looking very, very tense.

"What is it, Dom? It's just a job, it can't be that –"

"It's an inception." Dom interrupted, and Ariadne swallowed her ill-considered words before they left her mouth. She shook her head almost imperceptibly as memories of limbo and the constant fear and Mal crashed through her.

"Don't say no yet, Ari. We're going to have a meeting tomorrow in the workshop and discuss it then, I just wanted to get a feel for everyone's reaction. We don't do anything if we don't do it together." Dom tried to reassure everyone, and the table went back to eating. Something was missing, though – everyone's thoughts were elsewhere.

Ariadne brought her eyes up to meet Eames, who was looking straight at her.

"Are you okay?" he mouthed, and Ariadne shrugged.

"You?" she mouthed back. He pulled a face as though to say, "I'm me; of course I'm okay."

"Dom, could you pass the water?" Ariadne aimed across the table. Dom nodded and heaved it over, but before Ariadne could reach over another hand had grasped the handle.

Arthur set the jug down on the table at Ariadne's plate and smiled. As Ariadne stretched to pour herself some, his hand brushed against her arm and she felt lightning zip through her blood. Her eyes flashed up in surprise to see if he'd felt it too, but if he had, he certainly wasn't letting on.

"Thanks!" Ariadne tried to say brightly.

Arthur's breath contracted in his chest. He was sure she'd felt it too, but she couldn't have. It had been a year since he'd stolen the kiss in the dream. The kiss that had haunted him, forcing him to remember every time he saw her the taste of her lips on his. If she'd wanted something to happen like he wanted it to, it would've happened.

He understood. She clearly thought the same as everyone else – Arthur, the perfect point man, was married to his work and could love no other. If only Ariadne could understand how every night it wasn't his job that kept him up, tossing and turning, it was her. It was picturing how she would look, writhing underneath him, her intelligent, beautiful eyes locked onto his.

He'd guessed, as had everyone, that she was with Eames now. It made him want to kill his best friend even more than he did usually. Unbeknownst to everyone else, he and the forger had been best friends as long as he could remember, but their relationship was unusually private. Generally, Eames just pissed him off and now more so than ever. Seeing him with his arm around her tonight had been torture, and Arthur had tried not to let himself look at her as she sat beside him. Simply looking at her made him want her.

But then they'd touched, and now he could feel nothing but her skin on his, reminiscent of the softness of her mouth all those months ago. It was torment, but as they'd touched he'd seen in her eyes something akin to – could it be? – What _he _was feeling.

But it couldn't be.

Arthur tried to keep telling himself that as dinner ended and he dragged himself back up to his room, only doors down from hers.

Every single damn night he had to practically chain himself to his bed just to keep from going down there, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep it up. The need was becoming unbearable, seeing her all the time.

He loved seeing her at breakfast in her pyjamas and her hair messed and her make up smudged. He loved seeing her at dinner, smoothed down and perfect. He loved brushing past her all day, seeing her in the workshop –

The workshop, Arthur thought as he entered his bedroom, slammed the door behind him and sat neatly on his bed. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white shirt and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his trouser pocket, before remembering Dom's ban on smoking in the house.

The workshop. The inception. He knew he was meant to be thinking of something other than the sweet softness that was the young architect. He hadn't stopped thinking about her enough yet to even form an opinion. True, it had been one of the most terrifying experiences of his life… and yet, it had been the most challenging, the most rewarding because of the real danger. And it had brought together a family. He had never had one, really, and never one he cared about as much as this one. He'd never thought of himself as much of a child-loving man, but James and Phillipa could make a soppy, childish boy out of him yet. He had his best friends. The inception had given him that. Had given him her.

Arthur slipped his shoes and socks off.

But could he face it again? Could he face the terrifying knowledge that she might not make it out again? He didn't know if he could stand the thought that she might get hurt.

Thoughts of her once again besieged his mind. The image of her expression as they'd touched – and the disappointment when he'd quickly looked away – was locked into his mind once again.

"Fuck…" Arthur mumbled, as a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He nearly shouted, "It's open!" when he realised that if it was Eames, he didn't really want to let him in tonight. So instead, Arthur walked over to the door and pulled it open himself.

Standing there, stealing the breath from his lungs, was Ariadne.

He barely had time to register this before they were sealed together in a kiss so violent Arthur could feel his lips bruising as the woman wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He didn't know who had moved first, but now he was stepping back into his room and deftly locking the door shut with his hand. The other hand he ran up her curved back to her neck. Then he carried her to his bed and dropped her down.

In a second, she was standing before him and undoing his shirt buttons as his hands dealt confidently with her T-shirt, pulling it over her head before dusting more kisses over her lips. They were as good as he'd remembered – or even better. Arthur unhooked her bra and marvelled at her perfect body.

He ran his hand through her hair when she'd deposited his shirt on the floor and gripped it in his hand, pulling her head up to him and biting her lip. She let go of a whisper of a moan and Arthur felt the need pulsing in him more than ever before. He felt her small hands at his belt, too close for him to hold in his own groan, which flowed straight into her mouth. She undid the buckle with ease, even though he could feel her hands shaking. He was surprised his own were as calm as they were.

His eyes roamed down to the skin he'd exposed in relieving her of her T-shirt and he bent his neck to press soft kisses along her shoulders while his hands unbuttoned her jeans. He'd already kicked his own trousers away and was standing in his loose, black boxers. He noticed Ariadne's eyes move down his lithe body and take in the growing erection. He heard another moan elicited, he assumed, by the sight. He pushed her jeans down and lifted her easily in one arm to pull them away. They joined the pile of discarded clothes, and Arthur dropped Ariadne back to the floor gently, never taking his lips from hers.

She was pressed so close to him now that they could've been one. His arms were wrapped around her small body and hers clutched him to her, until finally Arthur couldn't bear it any longer. The only things keeping her from him were two small scraps of material, which Arthur quickly got rid of, flinging them off to the side and laying Ariadne down on the bed. Her dark curls spread over the white sheets, and her face was contorted in pent up desire. She gasped and reached up to pull him down to her from where he'd been observing her beauty.

He fell on top of her and kissed her neck while she gripped his hair in her hand, the other hand furiously clutching at his back. Arthur's lips trailed down over her breasts and her stomach, ignoring her moans of frustration even as she began to cry out his name.

"Arthur, please! For god's sake, please!"

Hearing his name come from her intoxicating mouth made Arthur push her further up the bed and abandon his kisses. Her head hung over the edge of the bed, her white neck exposed and so tempting that Arthur couldn't resist nipping it teasingly. Ariadne repeated her pleas, and Arthur took both of her wrists in one hand, holding them above her head. With the other hand, he traced her back and she arched up to meet him desperately. Holding onto his control by a thread, Arthur finally let himself meet her, and then he was inside her.

Ariadne could no longer feel the difference between their two bodies. All she could feel was his mouth on hers, taking her cries and screams of his name straight into his own mouth. Her hands found themselves freed of his grip as Arthur moved his hands to her face and her hair and her body. She dug her nails into his back and he growled. She could feel herself coming closer and closer to the peak, and she felt that he was, too.

"Hold on, Ari." She heard Arthur groan, and then he was sweeping her up, still inside her. She barely noticed that he'd finally called her by her nickname. The next thing she knew, her back was up against the wall and Arthur had renewed his thrusts with tripled strength. Ariadne hardly knew which way was up. She felt his shoulder against her mouth and she sank her teeth in. Arthur roared most uncharacteristically and retaliated, biting her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood, but all she felt was a wave of pleasure crash over her as they came together.

For a few moments, there was no sound but two sets of heavy breathing. Ariadne relaxed against Arthur, who was still inside her and holding her up. Finally, he moved them to the bed and lay her down. He pulled a sheet from the mess and slid in next to her, covering them. Ariadne cautiously wrapped an arm around him and laid her head on his chest. She couldn't even think of the possibility that he might want her gone – all she could feel was the aftershock and his body, his warm skin. She felt his arm hold her to him as though he was worried that she might disappear, and he kissed the top of her head.

After they were both calm enough to speak, Arthur nudged Ariadne's chin up so that she could see him.

"I thought… I thought you were with Eames." He said, flatly. Ariadne raised herself up on her elbows and looked at him.

"Is that why you didn't do anything?" she asked. Arthur nodded and she groaned (a different kind of groan), hanging her head. "We're just friends. I told him about you."

The moment the words left her mouth, she realised that it sounded stupid. She blushed, but Arthur just smiled wickedly.

"Told him what about me?" he teased, knowing full well what Ariadne was getting at.

Ariadne smacked his chest gently.

"Since the – the dream, I haven't been able to stop… Oh, you know. Don't be mean." Ariadne put her forehead on his chest, blushing again. She felt Arthur laugh and she looked back up at him, but the moment his eyes caught on her he frowned.

"What?" Ariadne said, worriedly.

Arthur reached a hand to her mouth and brushed her lip with a finger.

"I made you bleed." He said, sadly. Ariadne laughed.

"I'm pretty sure it was worth it."

His smile then was enough to make up for the whole of the past year that Ariadne had suffered.


End file.
